As the Lamb’s bones turned into dust, its eyes roamed the Raging Sea.
Its mouth hung open and its jaw fell off, but its legs stood firm.
With every Step, the pale horse burned, and as the sun came up,
The Lamb was Gone. But Its head remained.
And the words It spoke were ours.
‘Death is no foe. Death has no wants. No needs. No desires.
It is but an agent of the Sea.